


Ba-Back t-to Lo-London

by PaulineHolmes02



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, Caring Mycroft Holmes, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Guilty John Watson, Guilty Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, PTSD Sherlock, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Speech Disorders, Stuttering, Tortured Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 01:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17715080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulineHolmes02/pseuds/PaulineHolmes02
Summary: After being tortured by soldiers in Serbia, Sherlock is found by his brother. He's suffering from the PTSD and he has to learn to live with a little handicap - stuttering. How is John going to take his return after the worst two years in his life?





	Ba-Back t-to Lo-London

 

Sherlock opened his tired eyes and blinked several times to get used to the light. His vision was blurry and his eyes were sore. He had to knead them a bit so he could see properly. His head was pulsating with pain and his teeth were killing him - he had to visit the dentist very soon. He was sure he had several cavities, on his journey, he couldn't care about the hygiene. The spies could be found in every corner, they were looking for him.

He was exhausted, broken and depressed. Everything went well until stupid Serbia! He was runaway all the time, but he was so dumb that he let himself to get imprisoned! They kept him captured for almost two months! Those months filled with torture and loneliness were the worst ones in his life.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the quiet knock on the door.

Mycroft approached the big soft bed, where his baby brother was laying. " I'm glad you're awake. It's time to change your bandages, Brother dear..."

He almost cringed when he saw the tired man in duvets, he wasn't easy to eyes. The detective seemed so small and vulnerable. His skin highly contrasted with his raven-black messy hair, he was white like a sheet. His every-time prominent cheekbones were even more protruded, his pale skin tightened over them it seemed it will rip from the pressure of sharp bones.

Sherlock sighed heavily and frowned. He couldn't help but remember the last evening when Mycroft transported him to his house and found out...

The British Government sat down beside him and put his hand lightly on his bony shoulder. " Let me take a look, will you?" He asked, he didn't want his brother to feel worse than he already was.

After a few seconds detective nodded shyly, almost hesitantly. He trusted his brother, but he felt so ashamed in front of such an intelligent man. He always had respect for him, although sometimes it didn't seem like that. So he remained silent, since yesterday he refused to say a word. He turned his back on him.

Sherlock's tacitness was making Mycroft really worried, Sherlock had never been so quiet... " Sherlock... I know it's uncomfortable and hard for you. But I'm your brother, I'm not going to laugh at you..." He swore him. He never felt an urge to mock his brother to hurt him. Especially not in this situation...

Detective's mouth tightened into the thin line until his lips turned white. He knew exactly what was his brother talking about and it wasn't about the wounds covering his back. He shook his head resultantly, decided to not say a word.

" Lock, you have to talk! It's the only way to fix that! By the way, you still can talk, some people aren't able to speak at all!" Mycroft raised his voice, the desperation was taking control over it.

Sherlock turned around to look the man sitting next to him in the face. He took a deep breath. And again. And once more before answering." I-I-I'm sp-speak.... s-speaking w-wor-worse t-than f-four year-old!" He managed to say between the stutters. With every single syllable, his chin tightened and flexed, as if he had cramps. His fallen cheeks flushed pink.

Mycroft gave him a sad face and put his hand on Sherlock's thin thigh. He knew it was so hard for The-Only-Consulting-Detective-in-the-World to not be able to babble his phenomenal deductions in his usual fast cadence rhythm.  
" Look, it's absolutely understandable that this happened to you. It's the part of PTSD, everybody has different symptoms..." He tried to soothe him a bit.

" A-a-any cha-chance I will s-s-speak nor-nor... normally?"

" Nobody knows that, not even doctors. You have to be patient, it won't heal from the day-to-day..." Mycroft told him the not-easy-to-ears truth.  
He took the hem of the big t-shirt he borrowed to his little brother (after all, he was always little bigger than Sherlock--which his cheeky baby brother loved to point out... ) and pulled it over his curly head.  
The t-shirt was even baggier as the detective lost weight. A lot of it, in fact. He looked like a walking skeleton, it wasn't surprising that he was so tired.

The goosebumps appeared on Sherlock's bare skinny torso and arms and he shivered a bit.

Mycroft almost growled when he saw the bandages wrapped around Sherlock's slender back and chest. They were sopped with blood, the smell of the red liquid was sticking him in his pointed eagle nose. Very carefully, he took the bandage in his fingers and slowly began to unwrap them from Sherlock's deformed back. When the dirty bandage was gone, a nasty look occurred to Mycroft.

Sherlock's crippled back was a mess! It was covered with an uncountable amount of scratches, welts, wounds and dark violet. There almost wasn't a spot without any injuries. Some of them were inflamed and some even infected.  
" Lay down on your chest."

A little moan escaped Sherlock's lips as he laid down on his stomach. He folded his arms under his face and but his chin on backs of his hands. Then he realised something. " Jo-John?" He wasn't asking with a full sentence, it was exhausting him even more.

The British Government took a deep breath. " He's not completely fine, he had been through a lot, but he's getting better now..."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes when he realised that his brother was lying. " Yo-you're ly-lying... I-I-I h-h-have t-to see hi-him..."

His bigger brother frowned with disagreement. " Sherlock... I think it's not a good idea..."

" W-w-why?" Sherlock turned his head to take a look at the man who was taking care of him.

Mycroft's face seemed sad and worried. " He got on with his life... He's going to propose some woman..."

" Oh..." Sherlock choked and blinked trying to understand words Mycroft just told him. He couldn't believe it, his John found a woman he'd been searching for his whole life, a woman he wanted to make his wife... He blinked even more, to fight the sticking tears which wanted to escape his eyes. He didn't want to look like this in front of his icy brother.  
For a while, they remained in silent, both of them hide in their Mind Palaces. Mycroft kept cleaning his wounds. Sometimes Sherlock let out a little hiss when his scratches stung.

When Mycroft was done, Sherlock took a deep breath and forced a toothy smile on his cupid lips. " I-I-I'm ha-ha.... ha-happy for h-him..."

Mycroft felt little guilty for not telling him the truth, but it was better. He didn't want to stress him even more than it was necessary. " I'm sorry, Sherlock..." He whispered and began to wrap his back with new clean bandages.

* * *

 

  
John opened the door of 221B Baker Street and hanged his jacket and took off his boots. He let his bag slip down from his shoulder. He waddled to the kitchen. Yes, waddled, he was doing his best to hold his body upright. He was almost lifeless, exhausted and depressed, he lost a reason to be alive. And the breakup with Mary wasn't helping...

He opened the cupboard and took out two mugs and sugar. He put them on the unit and then he choked. He did it again... He had always been preparing the coffee, tea or anything else for both of them. He couldn't get rid of this habit and that hurt even more.  
He put Sherlock's favourite mug back and made himself a really strong coffee. He desperately needed it today.

With the warm drink in his hand, he made upstairs and grabbed a handle of the door. He opened the door slowly, thinking about what is he going to do. His life was so empty, he never felt like this in his life, not even in Afghanistan... Maybe he could sit down into his armchair, cover himself with his blanket and take a book...  
That git! That cheeky apparition afforded himself to sit in his armchair... But it looked quite down today, he was curled into the ball, he seemed much skinnier and smaller than yesterday. He decided to let him be.

" Hi Sherlock, how are you today?"

Sherlock raised his head in shock when he heard his name. He looked at the man on the doorstep. John Watson used to be vital, strong and full of happiness and sassy humour. He was short, but well-built, with softer tummy but firm muscles on his arms and legs.  
The man in front of him was nothing like that...  
The ex-soldier was cachectic and almost lifeless, he seemed to be ten years older, at least... His blond hair was embroidered with greying one, his round cuddly face looked fallen, under his tired ocean-blue eyes there were dark violet bags, from the lack of sleep. He definitely had to drop some weight, about seven pounds. It didn't feel right, it wasn't his John anymore. The worst of all was a cane in his right hand, he was heavily leaning over it to keep his balance. His limping was back...

The detective still gaped at him with a surprised face, he couldn't understand why John wasn't panicking? Or screaming? Or cursing? John would do it.

John smiled unhappily and ruffled his blond-grey hair. " Not in the mood? That's two of us..." He said as he leaned over the doorframe. " Guess what? Mary found out... She found out about you."

The detective fixed his eyes at him, thinking about what he told him. Mary had to be that woman he wanted to propose. What could she find out?

John sighed and gritted his teeth for a while. Then he straightened his back and made his way towards Sherlock's armchair, he had to lean over his cane. " She told me that if she knew what wack I am, she would never date me..." He whispered as he sat down heavily into the padded seat. He covered his face with his palm.

Sherlock was looking at him with a sad face. He was so angry at himself, that he did this to that perfect strong man. It was his fault, John was having hallucinations because he left him there alone...

" You look sad too..." John noted when he let his hands slip down from his face. " You're not being so silent usually... Of course, you're only a figment of my fantasy... But you're speaking with me every day..."  
  
The pale man widened his eyes at him, it was serious. He had to speak with him like that and thought that he was still with him. " E-e-every day?" He was so upset about his friend that he wasn't even embarrassed about his voice.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders as if it was a completely obvious and normal thing to do. " Yeah, you're the only reason why I didn't end it, you know? Do you know how many times I wanted to? But you were there and kept me sane... Well, sane... "

Sherlock felt his face curl with shock when he realised what was John saying. " Y-you me-mean t-to ki-ki... kill yo-yourself?"

John nodded. " Sometimes I was so close to... " He told him as if nothing happened. " Why are you stuttering?" He asked curiously, he never did this before.

Sherlock took a deep breath before answering. It was there, he had to say it. His heart began to pound faster. " 'Ca-cause I-I-I'm n-not an i-illu...il-llusion..."

John blinked few times as he understood what Sherlock just told him. " What? What?!" He raised his voice.

" I-I-I'm a-al... a-alive, Jo-John... " Sherlock said, his chin was even more cramping than before. He closed his eyes and hunched his back as he waited for the stream of insults and curses.

This time, it came. " You git! You utter swine! You've been there for a whole time! You let me grieve, you let me think I had hallucinations! YOU LET ME THINK I GOT INSANE!" John bellowed and waved his hands furiously.

" Jo-Jo-... John! I-I wa-was go-gone for two y-years!"

John's face reddened with anger and he jumped out of the armchair. " Why didn't you let me know that you were alive! I grieved you, I never got over it! I wanted to kill myself!"

The detective did the same and tried to catch his hand. " So-so-sorry... Le-let me e-ex... ex-explain-"

John shook off his hand as if he burned himself. " Stop with that annoying stuttering! If you think that I'm going to forgive you because you're p-p-poor l-little Sh-Sherlock, then you're terribly wrong! I'm sick of your stupid games!" He yelled at him, every other word struck into Sherlock's chest like a dagger.

He gritted his teeth. " A-at le-least I-I-I di-didn't g-ge-get m-mad! A-a-and b-by t-the way, th-that st-stupid ga-game as y-you s-say, sa-saved your bl-bloody li-life!" His voice didn't sound as dangerous as he wanted.

The doctor curled his fingers into fists and his tone grew even louder. " Shut up! You're a liar! You lie all the time, to everyone! Why should I trust you now?"

Sherlock backed off from him, he stumbled backwards with raised hands as if he was giving up. " I-I th-thought y-you tru-trusted m-me... "

" Then you were wrong..." John said with loathing in his voice, as if the detective meant nothing for him. But it wasn't true, he meant everything for him, but he couldn't understand why he didn't tell him! He turned out to run away from the room, but something made him stay.

The loud thud and devastated sob echoed through the room.

John froze. He never thought that Sherlock would be able of this emotion, but as it seemed, he was. And the worst of all was that it was his fault. He flinched and turned around to take a look at the detective. The gasp escaped his mouth. " Sherlock... " He whispered, more to himself than towards him. The guilt stung his heart, he shouldn't say those things to him.

Sherlock was sitting on the floor, he was hugging his sharp knees, as he pressed them against his bony chest. He was shaking all over his body, he kept cradling back and forth. Suddenly John realised how skinny Sherlock was. His face looked even narrower, his tightened skin on his cheekbones was painted with streams of tears. He was white as a sheet, his messy black hair was making his skin look even paler.  
" Jawn!" He exclaimed.

John flew through the room and bent down, well more likely he slide down next to him. " I'm right here..."

Sherlock's breath was growing faster and faster, it was dangerously close to the hyperventilation. He was sweating, the drops of sweat wet his forehead, but his lips felt dry.

John leaned nearer to him and stroked his hair. " Shhh... Calm down... Just breathe, okay? "

Sherlock curled more into himself, but it was making it even worse. " I-I ca-can't! Hu-hurts!" He whined through his tightened throat.

" I know it's uncomfortable, but try to do as I say... You're having a panic attack... Just breathe like me... " John reached out his once muscular arms and wrapped them around Sherlock's slender torso. He pulled him closer and pressed him on his chest, to make him feel his own fast-pounding heart. The huge wave of happiness flew through his body, that he was real, from flesh and blood. But at the same time, he was afraid to touch him, Sherlock felt so fragile, like a porcelain doll.

Sherlock buried his face in the gap between John's face and shoulder, unable to stop sobs coming from his tightened throat. He almost didn't feel his hands and his vision was getting dark.

" In and out... Again in and out. You're doing really well... Again... " He kept whispering into his ear. He felt so happy that he could hold him in his arms again, that his Sherlock was with him...

The doctor pulled out and he let him go so he could take a look at him. " Is it better?"

Sherlock nodded. He seemed a little better than before, but he definitely wasn't alright. He was still white as a sheet, and when John took a better look at his face, he saw a thin line over his fallen cheek. He was making an impression of discomfort, as if he wanted to be anywhere else than here.

" Is something hurting you?" John asked and wrinkled his eyebrows.

The detective shook his head. Of course, it was a lie, his whole back was killing him, the inflamed wounds stung his skin.  
But he didn't want John to be worried about him. And furthermore, he didn't want to speak in front of him.

" Sherlock, talk to me, please..." The ex-soldier put his hand on his shoulder, but Sherlock pressed his lips into the thin line.

John was even more worried. " Why not? Please, tell me what's wrong..." Even this time Sherlock didn't reply. The doctor sighed heavily and ruffled his blonde hair. " Sherlock, it's about what I said earlier, isn't it? I'm so sorry for that, please forgive me if you can..."

The detective knew he was defeated, he didn't want John to feel bad. " N-no, I-I-I-I'm n-not a-angry wi-with y-you... Do-do-don't wa-want y-you t-to he-hear m-me li-like th-this..." He whispered in a weepy voice, it was embarrassing for him to speak like that.

John couldn't help but he had to embrace him again, he felt Sherlock needed to comfort. " I don't mind, you little idiot..." He mumbled and cradled them back and forth, like a small kid. " Will you tell me what's going on with you?" John asked he didn't want to force him to do something he didn't want to.

" P-PTSD..." Sherlock mumbled with a sigh into John's shoulder and his cheeks darkened.

Soldier's body tensed at this word, he knew what harm the PTSD could do. " What happened? "

Even against his will, the detective began to tremble when he remembered moments of the hopelessness and despair. He took a deep breath and pressed himself even closer to the ex-soldier, he desperately needed comfort right now. " Se-Se-Serbia... W-was cap-captured... t-to-tortured... h-had t-to ke-keep y-you s-save... Mor-Moriarty ha-had sni-snipers a-at y-you... Ha-had t-to ju-jump!"

John's face paled and the colour vanished even from his cheeks. He gripped him tighter. " Oh, Sherlock... I'm so sorry..."

John felt Sherlock's head shook. " W-what I-I-I've do-done t-to you w-was un-unforgivable..." The detective told him, trying to decrease John's guilt. But it wasn't possible right now.

" Sherlock, none of this is your fault, I just got crazy... I'm the only one who is responsible for that... I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore because I'm insane..."

Sherlock's heart pounded faster when the adrenaline swelled inside him. He pulled away from his friend and looked him in the eye. " W-would it he-help y-you if I s-said t-that I-I-I ha-have been ha-ha-having t-those hallu... ha-hallucinations too? Y-you w-were wi-with m-me, te-te-telling me t-t-that it's w-wo-worth it... t-that y-you lo-love me and you're wai... waiting f-f-for me..." He closed his eyes as the blood was burning under his cheeks. This conversation was getting closer and closer to his pressure point.  
" Jo-John, y-y-you sh-should be gra-grateful for that hallu-halluci... na-nations, t-they ke-kept you a-a-alive..."

John blushed too when he realised what was Sherlock saying. " No... I'm grateful to you. You saved my life. I already said it at your... grave." He choked at this word, he hated it. " But I'll do that again. You are the best man and the most human being... I was so alone, after Afghanistan and your fall, and I owe you so much." He whispered.

" He-heard y-you... Wa-was t-there... Wan-wanted t-to t-tell y-you, I-I re-really did..." He almost whined, his voice broke. It wasn't obeying to his intentions, it was doing whatever it wanted.

But the doctor didn't mind. He knew this was normal after such a shocking story. He was really grateful to him that detective trusted him so much. " I know you did... I'm so sorry that I screamed at you, I was quite upset because of the break-up with Mary but...You know what?" Even though he wasn't in the mood for the whole day, he smiled. " I'm not as startled as I should be... Because it didn't work... It wouldn't work with anybody, because nobody is you... I would rather have my hallucinations because it would remind me of you... I know I have to look like an utter wack, but..." His cheeks flushed dark red, he was aware that he was blabbering, but he had to say that.

He was shut down with a pair of soft lips which pressed towards his. Sherlock made the first step, but he was distant and prepared to pull away. But John wrapped his left arm around his waist and the second one ruffled Sherlock's messy black hair. Sherlock felt a little better, his heart was overflowing with joy that John feels the same way as he.

Sherlock pulled out. " Do-don't y-you mind?" He asked carefully.

The soldier curled his lips into the sneer. " You're a Consulting Detective, the only one in the world... What do you think?" He tilted his head at him.

Sherlock smiled at him and opened his mouth to say something to tease him a bit. But he realised that his horrible stuttering would ruin that beautiful moment. He pressed his lips together.

John stroked Sherlock's tightened chin to help him relax a bit. " And now, speaking about your little problem, don't worry about it."

" Do-don't wa-want g-go t-to the spe-speech the-thera...the-ra-rapist..." Sherlock admitted weakly, his voice was tiny and sad. It was giving him an impression of little children, some of them were talking much better than him right now.

John cupped his face into his hands. " We'll make an agreement - we won't go to the speech therapist, BUT you will do everything I say, do you agree?" He asked, his tone was saying that he won't permit any exceptions. Sherlock couldn't do anything else but nod slightly.

John's voice gained a professional undertow, after all, he was a great doctor. " We will work on it. But first, I have to finish your sentences - the full sentence with subject and predicate is a base of recovery..."

The detective bowed his head and lowered his sight. " I-I-I'm go-going t-to bo-bore the pa-pants off y-you..." He noted.

" Shush, you silly. I couldn't be bored of you even if I wanted to... Furthermore, I'm a doctor, I know the best... We can do it, you'll see..." The short man swore him.

One lonely tear escaped Sherlock's eye. " Th-Thank y-you Jo-John..." He whispered. He was so grateful to his blogger. He grabbed his hands into his and looked into the ex-soldier's face.

" Anytime, Lock..." John mumbled before they connected their lips in a passionate kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers.
> 
> So what do you think? I know that stuttering can be really hard because I had a friend who had this problem. But he wanted to do something about it and it got better.  
> Do you have some experience with this (or another) speech disorder?  
> Thank you for your time and I wish you a good day. 
> 
> Yours  
> PaulineHolmes02


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